


Harmony

by suitesamba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:39:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: It’s the last day of term, the children have all gone home on the Hogwarts Express, and Severus wants to relax with a glass of scotch and a lapful of Harry Potter. Unfortunately, Harry has committed them to a night of Christmas caroling with the Weasleys. A holiday fic in which Severus sings a solo, Harry sings for Severus, and the house elves sing along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harmony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alisanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/gifts).



> Written for Secret Snarry 2013 at LJ/IJ/DW for this prompt: "Christmas Caroling" (prompted by alisanne)

~*~

“And they’re gone! _All_ of them. Every last one of them this year.”

Severus Snape straightened the portrait of Headmaster Dumbledore, smirking almost happily when portrait Albus stumbled against the side of the frame, then poured himself a large celebratory measure of scotch, picked up the new edition of _Potions Quarterly_ from his desk and disappeared – without further comment to the former headmasters and headmistresses –into his private quarters. There, he pointed his wand at the fire and watched approvingly as it roared to life, then perched his reading glasses on his nose and sank into his favorite chair, resolved to remain largely immobile for at least forty-eight hours.

Only thirty minutes earlier, the Hogwarts Express had pulled out of Hogsmeade Station. On board the train were four hundred and twenty-two students, the complete student body. For the first time in Severus’ long tenure at Hogwarts, not a single student was staying through the term break.

He was completely absorbed in his journal and well into his second generous glass of scotch when the Floo flared and his husband stumbled out. Severus moved the scotch safely on the side table and the potions journal out of crushing range only seconds before he found himself with a lapful of dizzy and disoriented Boy Who Lived.

“Did you _have_ to soup up our Floo?” Harry asked, dizzily stretching up to kiss Severus. The kiss, aimed at Severus’ mouth, hit him on the left nostril.

“Our advanced Floo system assures that you are home from the Ministry a full thirty seconds earlier each day than you otherwise would be,” answered Severus imperiously, wiping at his nose . “These seconds add up to two and a half minutes a week, for an additional two hours together each year.” _And assure me a lap full of nubile young husband five days a week as you stumble out of the Floo, trip over the hearth rug and land on top of me._

Harry grinned and reached up again to pull Severus’s head down for proper kiss.

“Mmmm.” 

Severus returned the sentiment. He doubted he’d ever tire of kissing Harry, and the extra fast trip through the Floo network assured him of one very nice snog after each and every stressful day.

“Wait.” Harry sniffed suspiciously. “You’re drinking.” He looked up at Severus, eyes narrowed. “Why are you drinking?”

“Have you forgotten already?” Severus kissed Harry again, feeling pleasantly hopeful about the prospects for the evening. “Today was the last day of term. The castle is empty of students. I am celebrating.”

“You can’t celebrate _now_!” Harry struggled to his feet. “We’re going caroling with the Weasleys tonight. I told Hermione we’d both be there – they’re all so excited you’re going this year. Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember!” Severus was proud of how easily the lie slid out. “I will be fine. I am looking forward to the event. Though you never said where we are caroling? Diagon Alley, I presume?”

He presumed wrong.

Forty minutes later – long enough for him to finish his scotch while Harry was showering and to down two bracing shots of firewhisky on top of it while Harry was looking for the matching winter scarves Molly had knitted them – they were standing in the courtyard of a Muggle senior living community. 

“Hermione’s grandparents live here,” Harry explained as Severus looked suspiciously around them. Everything was so _neat_ here. “But we’ll be singing for all of the residents tonight.”

Hermione, looking decidedly harried and heavily pregnant, waddled over and shoved a leaflet of papers at each of them. “Song sheets,” she explained. “We’re going to do both traditional carols and popular holiday songs. Stick to the lyrics. No funny business.” She sniffed the air and focused on Severus, frowning.

Severus glared at her, but apparently his patented death glare did not work on pregnant and harried women. She just shook her head and moved on toward Neville and Ginny and George and Angelina.

Harry leaned against Severus and spoke low so that the others couldn’t hear him. 

“I’ve been dying to hear you sing, Severus. You know how your normal speaking voice turns me on – I’m already getting hard just _thinking_ about hearing you sing.”

“Oh?” Severus glanced around. Molly and Arthur had just arrived, and Minerva and Kingsley were right behind them. Perhaps this was a good time to tell Harry that his dulcet, sexy speaking voice … _I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death…_ didn’t exactly translate well into song. His father, in fact, had once described Severus singing as sounding like a wounded bull moose. “About that, Harry….”

“Alright, everyone’s arrived so let’s do a practice run out here before we move into the dining room,” Hermione called out. “O Come All Ye Faithful.”

Midway through the song, Harry tugged on Severus’ sleeve.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered. “Why aren’t you singing?”

“I only know this one in Latin,” Severus replied under his breath.

“You don’t know _Oh Come All Ye Faithful_ in English?” Harry hissed. “Oh Come all Ye Faithful? Well, look at the song sheet, then.”

“I forgot my reading glasses,” answered Severus. The excuse was as feeble as it sounded. Harry glanced down at Snape’s pocket where he’d tucked his glasses just before they’d left Hogwarts. He sighed, grabbed Severus’ lyric sheets, and performed a quick _Engorgio_ spell, making sure Hermione wasn’t looking. The lyrics doubled in size on the page and were now clearly visible, even from across the courtyard.

The carolers finished the practice run with a crescendo of “Oh come let us adore Hi - IM!” then moved together into the dining hall where the seniors were already gathered, waiting for the evening’s entertainment.

“Oh look! A whole troop of gingers!” Harry bit back a smile and Severus rolled his eyes as an elderly couple pointed at the assembled Weasleys.

Hermione, the de facto emcee for the event, started the evening off with a brief introduction – but did they really look like a church group from Watford? – then led the group in a rousing chorus of _Jingle Bells._

“What? You don’t know this one either?” asked Harry when they were well into the second verse and Severus still hadn’t opened his mouth.

“I don’t like this one,” Severus replied haughtily. “It is too…cherry.” That second shot of firewhisky he’d taken as fortification while Harry showered was moving from his gut to his brain. Suddenly, he remembered Harry’s previous arousal and his eyes drifted downward, picturing some festive jingle bells dangling from a green and silver bow decorating Harry’s lovely cock. “Do you still have an erection?” he asked in a ridiculous stage whisper.

“No!” whispered Harry. “And will you stop eying me like that and talking about _erections_ in front of all these grandparents? We’re supposed to be a _church_ group!”

“Do members of church groups not get erections?” returned Severus, being horribly obstinate.

“No!” hissed Harry.

Ginny, arm wrapped around Neville, head bent beside his over a single song sheet, shot Harry a disapproving look.

The song wrapped up to polite applause and suddenly Hermione was explaining how they were now going to sing _The Twelve Days of Christmas._ “We’ll be performing short solos,” she said, beaming at the crowd. “We have some lovely voices for all of you.” 

Perhaps Harry should have waited to hear Severus sing before bragging to Hermione about his voice.

“When I point to you, sing the part,” she whispered back at the carolers. Harry already had a bad feeling about this one. Was it twelve drummers drumming or twelve pipers piping?

The song started off just fine. Arthur was the partridge in a pear tree, Molly the two turtle doves, Fleur the three French hens and Percy the four calling birds. 

“On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,” they all sang together, hanging on an expectant pause as Hermione pointed to Severus.

Perhaps it was the scotch, or the firewhisky chasers, or simply the holiday season and the prospect of two weeks with no children in the castle, but suddenly Severus very much _wanted_ to sing.

“Fiiiive Gold-en Rings!” he belted. 

Percy, mouth agape and staring at Severus, forgot the four calling birds, but Fleur gamely came in a beat and a half late with the three French hens, and Molly choked through the two turtle doves. 

“Severus, that’s not funny!” whispered Harry, squeezing his husband’s hand harder than necessary.

“It wasn’t meant to be funny,” muttered Severus, glaring at the assorted carolers and audience members who were staring at him. “I never _claimed_ to have a good singing voice.”

“ _That_ was your singing voice?” 

They’d made it through another round, and Ron gamely took on the six geese a-laying. 

Why did Severus’ verse have to be proceeded by the long, dramatic pause? It gave everyone time to turn in his direction and wait….wait…wait for it…

“Fiiiiiiiive Gooooooolden Rings!”

He sung it with even more enthusiasm the second time around. Harry hoped – he fervently hoped – that the alcohol in was somehow negatively affecting Severus’ voice.

Hermione’s glare was hard enough to crack a fossilized egg, but Severus was not phased. After Minerva trilled out the nine ladies dancing, and Neville followed with the eight maids a milking, blushing – Merlin knew why – as he sang, Hermione began to look nervous as Severus’ part approached. After Ron presented his six geese a laying, the group paused dramatically, Severus opened his mouth, and Hermione signaled to the assembled guests to join in.

“Fiiiiiive Gooooooool-den Rings!” they sang, nearly drowning out Severus altogether.

“Is it the alcohol?” whispered Harry a few minutes later when the fiasco of the _Twelve Days of Christmas_ had ended and they’d moved on to _Oh Christmas Tree._

“Unfortunately, no,” Severus answered. “Alcohol generally improves my pitch.”

“Wow,” Harry muttered. “Just…wow.”

“Perhaps another drink…?”

“Maybe you could just join in on the chorus on the next song, instead,” suggested Harry. 

But after the next song, Harry suggested that it might be best if Severus just mouth the words.

“I’m not disappointed, not really,” said Harry later that evening as they walked, hand-in-hand, from the Apparition point just outside the Hogwarts gates up to the castle doors. 

“You are upset,” corrected Severus. “You expected my singing voice to move you even more than my speaking voice. You hoped I would seduce you with song, bring you to the edge of orgasm with the dulcet notes of my rich baritone. You wanted liquid sex, the virtual caress of my voice over your sensitive skin. You wanted me to make love to you in song, Harry.” He released Harry’s hand and wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist, tucking him in against his side as they walked across the snow-covered, moonlit grounds. He sighed.

“And I have failed you.”

“You haven’t failed me, Severus,” Harry protested. “I only thought…”

Severus smirked. “I _have_ failed you. And I shall have to make it up to you. “

“Make it up to me?” Harry turned his head slightly and smiled at Severus. “That sounds interesting.”

“Indeed.”

~*~

“My favorite Christmas song?” Harry, naked, warmed by the weight of his husband’s body, rocked his pelvis suggestively and stared into the dark eyes above him. “Really? Now?”

“Really. Now.” Severus nuzzled into Harry’s neck, sucked lightly beneath his ear.

“Alright…” Harry panted, continuing the rhythmic rocking motion of his hips, eager for more contact. “Um… _So This is Christmas_?”

“Hmmm.” Severus’ lips were on Harry’s jaw now. He moved his mouth slowly to Harry’s lips, whispered into Harry’s mouth as he kissed him. “Appropriate…considering. Sing it.”

“Sing it?” protested Harry. “Now?”

“Sing it now…I will continue as long as you are singing….” The lips stopped, the head settled over Harry’s heart, rising and falling as Harry’s fingers played into the hair, stroking downward, slowly, deliberately.

“This is kind of weird,” Harry said at last, rocking his hips up against his very unresponsive husband.

“I’m comfortable,” Severus said. “I can wait.”

“Git.”

“Hmmm….”

So Harry sang.

He swallowed some words as Severus deep-throated him, choked on others as the longest, most agile of fingers explored him, squealed out the lyrics as he was shifted to his knees and a tongue worked over his bollocks, then sang the final chorus, a plea, a prayer, a joyful invocation, when Severus pushed slowly inside him and made his entire body sing. 

And if the house elves paused in their late-night duties, bat-like ears perking up at the sound of the Headmaster’s young husband singing - _singing_ \- as midnight approached, they quickly resumed working, dusting and polishing with smiles on their elfin faces, heads bobbing from side to side in time with the song.

_War is over_

_If you want it_

_War is over_

_Now_

_Fin_


End file.
